Review: Witch Queen Rising by Savannah Stephens
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Review: There Is No Antimemetics Division by qntm
“There are Unknowns with antimemetic properties,” Quinn goes on. “There are ideas that cannot be spread. There are entities and phenomena that harvest and consume information, particularly information about themselves.
page 14, Marie Quinn
You take a Polaroid photo of one, it’ll never develop. You write a description down with a pen on paper and hand it to someone, but what you’ve written turns out to be hieroglyphs, and nobody can understand them, not even you. You can look directly at one and it won’t even be invisible, but you’ll still perceive nothing there. Dreams you can’t hold on to and secrets you can never share, and lies, and living conspiracies. It’s a conceptual ecosystem, of ideas consuming other ideas and…sometimes…segments of reality. Sometimes, people.”
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Review: The Correspondent by Virginia Evans
And yet, if one has committed oneself to the page, the tragedy I’ve just laid out will not apply. Imagine, the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like the pieces of a magnificent puzzle, or, a better metaphor, if dated, the links of a long chain, and even if those links are never put back together, which they will certainly never be, even if they remain for the rest of time dispersed across the earth like the fragile blown seeds of a dying dandelion, isn’t there something wonderful in that, to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it is a very small thing to someone?
page 46, Sybil
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Review: The Last Contract of Isako by Fonda Lee
Isako won’t do it. Maybe it’s vain, but she doesn’t care; she’s going to die with long hair. It’s impractical, it costs her time and money, but everyone’s got to have personal principles. Her hair is the only thing defying the pace of aging that afflicts the rest of her. It’s still thick and glossy, a black so pure that Tai used to say it was nearly blue. Tai loved her hair. He used to run his hands through it, bury his face in it, stroke it after they made love.
page 84
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Review: Upward Bound by Woody Brown
Autism on my end of the spectrum is like ADHD times a thousand. It’s nearly impossible for me to untangle the many channels in my brain so that I can stay on a single station.
page 7